


Where or When

by easternfront



Category: Inception (2010), RocknRolla (2008)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:26:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/easternfront/pseuds/easternfront
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames doesn't want to win anymore or be anything but Robert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where or When

**Author's Note:**

> My first drabble of A/E. Feeling very humble and scared in front of master works and writers here in AO3.

The steady thumping from somewhere downstairs edged into Eames' sleep. He wearily opened his eyes and saw his precious old 80's Mickey Mouse clock showing only 6.22am on its blood red digital screen. He slowly swung his legs over the side of the bed and was greeted by miscellanious items of his own clothing strewn across the bedroom floor. There had apparently been a feeble attempt to sort things out, as few dress shirts were on their own pile and a mountain of trousers and shorts were thrown across the foot of the bed.

He rubbed his face hard and pulled his briefs from his ass crack as he got up and walked to the window. The neighbourhood showed no signs of life this early in the morning. From the second story window, at the end of the road you could see the football field, the local and the old cat ladies house. OK, the lady was probably already long gone and her old driveway was now inhabited by two low carrying BMW's instead of those furballs. It was weird how the neighbourhood looked from mum's attic room window. She must have always seen the boys smoke behind the small referee box next to the football field.

He stretched his back by grabbing the window pane and kicked the cold radiator. He'd soon have to decide what to do with the house now that it was going to be completely empty. It was no good leaving a house unattended for a long time in this neighbourhood. He'd get squatters in a matter of weeks and they'd be hard to get rid of. Still the actual process of selling and giving it up made him shiver. Too many memories to rip away.

He slowly walked down the creaking stairs and the persistent thumping got louder and louder. He saw that the door to the conservatory was open. An extension he had had built for mum after he made his first big paycheck. She had marvelled the timber that was covered with heavy and sturdy glass. "What are you building me this greenhouse for!?" had changed into "It's such a lovely place to have my morning tee darling!"

In the past year it had become a room where Mumbles' mum kept storing stuff her grandkids brought over for her. The legality of half of the stuff in the room was most likely questionable. The jarring sound came from a treadmill that was placed right next to the big sliding doors. Eames didn't remember it being there three months ago but now there it was under a heavy use. Treadmill was working on the highest levels and speed was faster than a regular morning jogs were intended to be. Arthurs sweat had already made the ridiculously big T-shirt wet and his calfs were sheaning and red from the strain.

Small earbuds were attached to a mobile that was placed at the control panel. Eames thought for a second of a suprise attack but leaned against the doorframe instead and just watched. Arthur was running in his black briefs and kept shaking his arms around every now and then. Eames could tell he was doing some sort of rapid intervals with the speed going up and down in just matter of few minutes. The greyed sneakers were ragged and the same ones you could be hundred percent sure were always packed at the bottom of Arthur's travel bag. If everything else was sleek and perfect in this man's life then the old shoes definately were not.

Eames had never understood people's need to run free willingly. Sure if you needed to get to places fast or even faster out of them, then yes it was good to have some stamina to run few miles just to escape. But the utter need to create endorphines by simply running without a purpose didn't, and would never, be one of his things. He was about to turn away and head back into the kitchen when a snappy voice was targeted at him:  
"Can you make yourself useful and open the doors! It's getting too damn hot in here!"

Eames saw both of their reflections from the glass and for a while they were looking at each others see through copies. Arthur's hair was pinned back with one of those thin rubber bands that the footballers with long hair were seen using on the field. He'd have made fun of that unless that one, unruly black strand escaped from the confines of elastic hadn't made Arthur's face look too beautiful and mesmerising.  
"Well get on with!" came a speedy command through smiling lips.

He walked over to the doors and pulled them aside. Cool, crisp morning air attacked the sweaty room. Small beebs at the treadmill's control panel indicated the slow cooling down cycle was starting. Eames was suddenly missing his morning smoke routine, a routine he had dropped nearly a year ago when a beautiful young female GP had warned him of all the same chronic diseases that had eventually taken mum to her grave. For some reason he had decided to take the offer of going to the new health center for his 40 year olds checkup. First it had been a joke but then the reality of him not actually going to a doctor, to a real certifiable and licensed doctor, since he'd had his nose fixed after a secondary school scuffle with LeftyAndersson.

The doctor had been very pleased that a man of his age hadn't had the need for a doctor but then during the check up had seemed confused because of all the scars and marks decorating his body. He had explained them being patched up war wounds from third world countries. She had thought of that as a joke first but then had settled into a somewhat unease about the wacky patient she had on her hands. It didn't really matter what she wrote on her notes, since he got Arthur later to wipe all the data of his visit from the NHS system. Robert John Eames' last official visit to the system was still due that broken nose from all those years ago.

He had however been left with the annoying warning that he should return in the next five years to make sure his cholesteral levels were not rising. He was fourty for heaven's sake!

"You're thinking about smoking aren't you?" Arthur was now on a power walking stage of his cooldown.  
"No!"  
"Don't fucking lie! I can hear your brain begging for those Marlboro's."  
"No you can't."  
"Why not?"  
"Cause I would never smoke Marlboro's, you do."

Arthur smacked the control panel and the treadmill wound down. The silence was broken by Arthur's heavy and deep breathing. Eames smiled because that hightened breath brought along nice memories. He turned around and saw Arthur wiping his face with a floral hand towel. He suddenly remembers standing almost stark naked in front of the window when the cold starts to seep inside his pants. He makes a jump towards Arthur who seems to have guessed his next movement and rapidly turns around and heads towards the kitchen. Eames lands awkwardly halfway leaning against the settee and the empty spot where Arthur was standing just two seconds ago. His retreating back is already giving orders:  
"Close the doors so your dick doesn't shriver off, I'm making coffee. Do you want one?"

He can only growl as response and pulls the doors shut. It is cold and he grabs an old bathrobe from the cupboard under the stairs and wanders back to kitchen. Arthur just glaces at the old navy blue robe and continues to struggle with mum's old percolator which she refused to change into a coffee maker. Little frustrated huffs made Eames walk next to Arthur and took the coffee can from his hands. Arthur let it happen and watched closely as Eames proceeded to load the percolator.

Arthur felt nice standing next to him, just breathing and sharing the same space. Eames turned on the pot and slid his arm around Arthur's now only slightly damp waist. He became a bit suprised as the man turned and wrapped himself around Eames with the strenght of a gripping koala. He laid his head against Eames' shoulder and whispered quietly:  
"I'm sorry about your mom..."  
Eames felt his eyes water and he began blinking rapidly in order to stop the tears from falling.  
"...I didn't know what to say yesterday and everything...I behaved so aggressively. I'm sorry."

The slow gurkling from the pot and steady breathing made Eames relax and let few tears roll down his cheek. He knew Arthur had been in LA to see Cobb and the kids and that it had been exactly five years since Mal had jumped. Arthur had always joined the Cobb household during that time and their stupid argument had exploded when he had suggested that Pippa and James were going to be just fine with their dad and grandparents and that a sulking Arthur would bring no extra to the remembering family. Arthur's pale face had turned to stone and his neck muscles had tensed up so that every single tendon was stretching the skin from underneath.

He regretted saying anything about the visits the moment it came out but the jackass in him had enjoyed the victory of rendering Arthur speechless and had just grinned at the mans angry features. Without a word Arthur had packed a small collection of casual clothes and walked out of the house. Before banging the door shut a broken scream from the hallway had made Eames jump:  
"Fuck you asshole! I hope you enjoy dying alone!"

For three weeks he hadn't heard anything from Arthur and as a revenge hadn't tried calling back to the man either. Instead he had flown home, spent quality time with the Wild Bunch drinking, playing cards and swindling rich asshole's to empty their wallets even if they didn't actually need the money. He had almost fucked a posh RADA student that was hanging around the club "to get the accent right". Laying on top of the drunken student in his small Shoreditch apartment next to the pair of man's dress shoes looking exactly like a pair of Arthur's had made his erection disappear like his cock had been dipped into a ice water. He had scrambled up, broken a vase with tulips and excused himself quickly. During the long walk to home in the waking London was when he'd received the call about mum.

He found himself standing in the A&E waiting room with rest of the weekend riff raff just waiting and waiting. He had seen mum just two days ago and he remembered her mother giving him a kiss and telling to get his head out of his ass. He smiled at the memory and nearly missed the nurse calling for him. He was led to a small indian woman who with such grace and dignity had told him that his mum had had a severe stroke and unfortunately had died right as she was brought to the hospital. He was then lead to a small room where his mother was laid next to burning candles and white roses.

Mumbles' mother Rose sat at the end of the bed and was in the middle of some sort of a prayer. He wasn't sure if he should walk up to her or just sit in the chair placed to the right side of the bed. Before he could move Rose stood up and walked up to to him:  
"She was not alone sweetheart. I found her and never let go of her hand. She was a good woman your mother was. She wasn't in pain and she wasn't alone. She knew you loved her more than anything in the world." Then she lead Eames to sit to the chair and placed his hand to his mothers:  
"I'll leave you to say your goodbyes. Her spirit is still here." Without a sound Rose left and he was alone with her mother.

Her hand was cool but not cold. She looked peaceful and calm. He was unable to move for a long time. He just sat there and looked at her. He realised that the sun was already getting higher in the horizon and he glanced at his watch. It was almost nine am. He stood up and for some reason took a hold of the sheet and pulled it over her mothers face:  
"Bye mum. I love you."

The following week went under a haze. A mixed collection of middle aged and elderly women seemed to take over his mums house where he had began hibernating instead of his own flat. There was always food on the stove or oven and lager in the fridge. Mum had a huge circle of friends that were all the mothers of his childhood friends. Hard, tough women who were more often spending time in prison waiting rooms for family members than gyms or shopping centers. He hadn't done anything to organize the funeral. He just assumed it was time when One-Two came around with a black suit picked up from his flat. A suit that was pathetically small so that the buttons wouldn't close and his shoulders were rigid because the cut was too narrow.

The church was small and the rows were full. The service was quick and and the priest told everyone to come at peace and continue to love thy self...the walk to the grave was beautiful. The neighbourhood was quiet and the sun was shining. His hands were shaking as he lowered the coffin to the ground with the guys. When priest allowed the dirt to be thrown to the ground Eames walked over to the edge and dug out a small wooden bear that mum had kept sitting at her bedside table for as long as he remembered. He knew he could have kept it for himself but somehow felt it was important to let her have it with her if there was something beyond the reality.

After letting go of the bear he watched as the congregation slowly dispersed. All headed to mum's house that was full of food and booze. He saw the men with a small tractor waiting to get on with their day and cover the grave with the awaiting pile of dirt. A dark figure was heading towards the men and talked with them for awhile. The men just shrugged and turned away and handed a pair of shovels for...Arthur.

Arthur was shedding his long coat and dark grey jacket on his walk over. He gently folded them over a gravestone and handed Eames a shovel. Without a word the two men began throwing mechanically dirt into the grave and were soon done with the job. They leaned into their shovels and watched the now covered grave which stood out from the otherwise green grass. Arthur smiled meekly and wiped the beads of sweat away from his forehead and pulled his jacket back on. He walked at the head end of the grave and knelt down. From his pocket he pulled out a perfectly round, light beige rock and placed it on the ground.  
"It's from one of coves along the Pacific Highway you liked. I went there for a walk." With that he stood up and headed for mums house. After few steps he stopped and turned:  
"They are all waiting for you. Do you want to skip? I can go and tell them if you're not up to it."

He thought about just leaving, going to Greece of Sri Lanka or anywhere where he didn't have to see old faces and hear the consoling voices. At the same time he wanted to get the the sympathy, acknowledgement and attention. He knew he needed the attention and the Eames the Forger enjoyed praises and approval more than anything else in the world. He basked in eternal sunlight when someone told him that he was the best and did a good job. Mum was always his biggest cheerleader, fan and supporter. She had never questioned or asked when he had left London, not even when he came home to recouperate with a gunshot wound to his lower back in the winter of 2009 and stayed for two months renovating the house and paying for everything. 

He was not going to get sappy and yell at the world that he'd give anything to have her back. No, that was not the kind of man that Robert was. Robert was quiet and observing and aware that that tiny things in life were the most effective. He was going to that wake and keep mum proud of his son and show everyone that he was going to be fine. Walking towards the house next to Arthur was slow. They walked in sync and closer they got to the house the more sedated and calm he became. At least for now his life wasn't going to be quiet.

His tears were drying and he felt Arthur's hands slide up and down along his spine while he was looking for words:  
"I didn't...I wasn't at Dom's and..."  
"Sshh...I'm sorry for being a dick. I know you loved Mal and you still mean a lot to Pippa..."  
"I drove there and stopped at the gate and...you were right, they don't need me. What am I going to give to them? This moody guy that only shows up once a year when dad is miserable anyway. Takes them for ice creams and swimming and to that movie that dad isn't allowing them to see..."  
"You're the cool uncle, the one that knows them, the one they tell stories about at school. I know you are."

Arthur pulled just slightly further so that he could look Eames right in the eyes:  
"Cool uncle with a hot boyfriend?"  
"It depends..." he pulled his best smirk and wrapped his hands tighter around Arthur's waist.  
"It depends on what?"  
"That you promise never to shut down or tone down. Always appriciate you and us and always, this is an important one, call me out on my shit. Always and forever."  
Arthur looked down to his toes as he spoke:  
"Will you make me a promise as well?"  
"Mmhm."  
"Tell me things, things about you that I don't know. The real you. The Robert that was yesterday reading his mother's diaries or talking about your school yard fight with WesternWilly..."  
"Lefty."  
"...and things that make you and not Eames. Promise."

Robert moved suddenly and turned towards the counter leaving Arthur unbalanced and grabbing the bathrobe.  
"Sorry, I had to turn the percolator off or we'd be drinking tar."  
Arthur's ears were red and he blinked back tears. Robert knew that look, it was a mix between anger and shame, suppression of emotions.  
"Darling yes, always yes to that. I'm done with being someone else in front of you. Stops me from living. So I promise. I won't swear though because swearing under oath gets you in trouble. So I just promise and...you just have to, I don't know, trust. So are we married now or what?"  
He saw it. Just for a fraction of a second, a sly smirk from Arthur.  
"Yeah. Married by trust."

Suddenly he realised what he had known right from the moment the nurse had called from the hospital to his private phone, after seeing Arthur in the graveyard and after reading the last lines from his mum's diary:

"Bobbie was so happy after he came back to visit in last March. He didn't have to say but I know, I know hes found someone. He looks just like me when hes happy. I just want to see him be a good man because hes got a good heart. I know mums are not supposed to worry too much but I just want him to be my Robert."

He could never sell this house as much as he knew Arthur was going to be a part of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Title Where and When from a good old classic sung by Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra among many.


End file.
